


Another Tune (the Baby Makes Three remix)

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Carrie - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carrie Lives, Character's abusive childhood is revealed, F/F, Post-Canon, Teen Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: Carrie learns to live, and gets ready to welcome another life.
Relationships: Susan Snell/Carrie White
Comments: 3
Kudos: 38
Collections: Remix Revival 2020





	Another Tune (the Baby Makes Three remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amitye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amitye/gifts).
  * Inspired by [the milk of human kindness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134599) by [amitye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amitye/pseuds/amitye). 



> Notes on the canon divergence: Prom goes a little differently, but Carrie's mom and Tommy still die.

"I'm late," Sue said, when she came out of the bathroom. Her voice was like glass cracking.

Carrie, for once, knew exactly what she'd meant. She had known for a while, but Sue had probably lost track, with everything that had happened. "It's going to be okay," she said.

Sue looked at her like she'd lost her mind. "How—"

"I don't know," she said. "I just know." She looked down. She was still braced, waiting for someone to scream. Freak out. Every time. She wondered if she'd ever just be able to talk about what she could do, who she really was, without the fear.

"Wow," Sue said. "Can you...tell if it's a boy or a girl?"

"It's a girl," Carrie said.

"Oh," Sue said. "Wow. I...I think I'm glad."

"Do you want to keep it?"

Sue sat down on the bed next to Carrie. "I think...my parents are going to be angry. And I think...I don't know what Tommy's parents will say. But yes. I think I do."

Carrie looked down at her hands in her lap. Sue had taken care of her afterward, when her feet were bleeding and the school was on fire. She hadn't meant to set the school on fire. At least no one had gotten hurt. Not after Tommy.

Sue had held her hand when the police officers talked to her. Sue had taken her home when they'd learned her mother was dead. The fire had burned so hot that no one knew what she'd done. 

"Your parents love you," Carrie said, feeling a little jealous.

"They do," she said. "But I don't think they're ready for this."

"My mom wasn't ready for anything."

Sue sighed. "I'm sorry," she said. "This must seem so selfish, that I'm complaining about this."

"No," she said. "I'm sorry. It's not selfish. I just...sometimes I don't know what to say."

Sue reached over and took Carrie's hand. "It's okay. Sometimes I don't know either."

Most of the end of the year had been a blur. There was Tommy's funeral. There were questions among questions, there were rumors about what Carrie could do, what Carrie _had_ done. There were Sue's parents, kind and patient and pouring her fresh-squeezed orange juice on Sundays. 

Sometimes she woke up, looking up at the ceiling in the Snell's picture-perfect guest room, and wondered if it would ever feel normal, if she'd ever feel like something other than an intruder and a fraud. If the voice in her head, the one that sounded exactly like her mother, would ever quiet.

She graduated. Sue graduated. The Snells threw them a joint graduation party. They drank pink champagne and giggled until Carrie started crying.

Sue's mom came and patted her on the back. Sue held her hand.

"It's going to be all right," Sue said.

Carrie didn't believe her, but she didn't want to let Sue down.

They went shopping for clothes when Sue started getting too big.

"These clothes are so _ugly,"_ Sue said, holding up something that looked more like a sack than a dress. It had smocking on top, which paradoxically made the sack look even more shapeless.

"So ugly," Carrie said. "You know, I could sew you something better."

Sue looked up at her. "You could?"

"Yeah," she said. "We sewed all our clothes, at home." Even the worst clothes she'd owned, the ugliest, was better than what Sue was holding up. Even the flowers on it were ugly and misshapen. "I don't have a sewing machine any more, but your mom does, doesn't she?"

"She can't sew at all," Sue said. "I bet she'll let you use hers."

"We could go to the fabric store," Carrie suggested.

"At least we could pick something prettier than _this,"_ Sue said, and they both laughed.

Carrie put the crib together, too. Sue got a job at a grocery store until the baby came. "I can babysit when you're working," Carrie offered. "And you can watch her when I'm in class."

Sue wanted to go to college, too, but until she actually _had_ the baby, she hadn't wanted to enroll. She figured being a single unwed mother—even one whose potential spouse had died tragically in the spring—would get her enough questions at Washington Community College. She didn't want to have to try to schedule around maternity leave, too. "The guidance counselor told me that 'most' of the teachers were 'very understanding,'" Sue told Carrie. "I don't want 'understanding.' I just want to go to classes, you know?"

"You'll have time," Carrie promised her. "I'll take care of you. And the baby. Everything will be all right." Carrie didn't want to ruin things. She didn't want to be like her mother had been. She wanted to be happy and encouraging, and sometimes she could leave the fear aside long enough for her to believe that she could be.

She'd sewn Sue's clothes with extra seam allowance and darts so it could be let out as the baby grew, and she made Sue a roomy new jacket as fall approached. They watched the leaves turn and found a playground near their apartment that they thought the baby would like. "We can bring her together," Carrie said.

"Okay," Sue said. "I'd like that."

The first time they kissed, it had been silly, a joke, when they were at a photo booth. Sue had pressed her lips to Carrie's cheek, and the strip of photos had caught when Carrie's eyes went wide, when she'd turned toward Sue and their lips touched.

The second time had been after graduation, when Carrie had heard some of the girls whispering and run into the bathroom to cry. Sue had found her, and pulled her into her arms. "It's okay," Sue said. "Don't listen to those _bitches."_

Carrie had kissed her, relieved, the tears drying on her face.

They'd bought one bed for the apartment, a big one, and hoped Sue's parents would just think they were trying to save space.

The first night together, they crawled into bed, and Carrie put her arms around Sue, around the bump.

"My mother," she said. "It...it wasn't a accident. Not the way people thought it was."

Sue went still. "Are you okay?"

"I didn't—I guess it was an accident. I didn't want to—I just was _angry._ I didn't mean to....I guess I meant to hurt her. But...."

"She hurt you," Sue said. Sue knew. She'd told her, a little at a time, though Sue would probably never know the whole story. Carrie didn't want to think about it, most of the time. "I know....you wouldn't hurt me, or our family."

 _Our_ family. 

"You're sure it's all right if I stay?"

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Sue said.

"All right," Carrie said, and tried to contain the joy fluttering in her chest.


End file.
